


Eyes Of God

by heckmedic



Series: AND THEN ALL THE ANGELS FELL [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Jesse is Catholic, M/M, and Angela isn't a sweet innocent mother, lots of dark secrets, talon au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckmedic/pseuds/heckmedic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now you look at Him and tell me again you’re a good woman, Angela. Stand in front of the Son of God and lie to Him like you lied to me. You bare your soul before God and tell Him you’re sorry for everything you did."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Of God

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Some context:  
> -Jesse's "new outfit" is the mystery man skin  
> -[Here](http://godsownjunkyard.co.uk/gojy.htm) is where everything is going down and [here](http://www.thevervelife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Gods-junkyard-620x411.jpg) is the inspiration I had for the Giant Neon Jesus that gets mentioned.

When shit had gone down in the Swiss HQ, he had already been _well_ away. Gone with the wind. To be quite frank; he’d been glad the place had been blown to kingdom come. It’d only been a means to an end, and the folks had tried too hard to get to know him, to make him _like_ them. Fools, the lot of ‘em. Except… **Him.**

The months after had been wild, chaotic. Fraught with danger as they skipped accross the world, racking up kills like tally marks on a chalk board. He’d had fun riding solo for a while, picking up bounties here and there. Then, the call had came.

His voice had some different quality to it. A thin, pained rasp that spoke of sanguine urges and suggested sharp teeth. Jesse had always got bored mighty easily; when Gabriel (Reaper now) had offered him a place in the black-clad ranks of Talon, he had no issues with joining. He settled in like he was made for the place. It had all the raw energy of the Deadlock Gang, the millitary structure of Overwatch which he’d grown used to. Together, he and his old CO rode accross the graves of Overwatch on a **_tide_** of red; each bullet brought thrills, glee, respect.

Somewhere along the way, they started earning him _other_ things too.

They were still working out a lot of things between them. Nights shared were still rough, hard, bloody-just how they liked it. One time they broke a chair clean off it’s legs when Gabriel played a little too rough with him. Jesse got his own back later when he near enough executed Gabriel by witholding his right to breathe-

Yeah. They were still working things out.

To be honest,t he last thing Jesse wanted was for one of their ghosts to turn up again. Most of the big ones had scattered, or already been dealt with; Jack was dead and buried. Winston was an unknown, as was Genji. Tracer and  Reinhardt were sequestered safely in cells. Last he’d heard, young Lena had finally caved at the water torture, told them where the Swiss dwarf was. _One more for me_ , Jesse had said, when he fanned the hammer into Torbjorn’s chest.

But Angela; hell, that was one fight he’d been looking to postpone…If only in hopes of hoarding the experience for himself.

But, oh, she had been flighty. He’d expected as much; Angela always had a knack for washing her hands clean of trouble, running away when it suited her. They’d chased her all the way to his old stomping grounds in Santa Fe, a chase culminating, for them, in success. For her, it ended in a tangled net and a shot of tranquilizers in the neck.

He hadn’t been able to keep himself in line. _Begged_ Gabe to let him have his fun before they put her to work with Lena and Wilhelm. He had watched the void eyes of the barn-owl mask intently, shivered with delight when he noticed Gabriel’s shoulders fall slightly in quiescence. Jesse had busted into a locked up barn on the outskirts of town; a ghost space he had frequented with friend soon to be lovers many, many years ago. It was in there he’d had his first kiss..Among other things.

God’s Own Junkyard, as it was called, was filled to the rafters with all assortment of neon signs. Jesse had deposited Angela’s slumbering body on the ground carelessly, looking around desperately for the light switch.

“Reyes, get the lights!”

“You get the lights” he growled in reply, before stalking off to the basement to look for the fuseboxes. A minute or so later, the barn shivered into life. Jesse’s wild eyes reflected the myriad neon lights now glowing, flickering, all around them. He was so excited by the look of place, what he was going to do there, that he didn’t hear Reyes ghost up behind him.

“Might as well just shoot her now.”

Shocked more at his words than sudden appearance, Jesse wheeled around, held out his arms in admonishment as he gestured to her crumpled form, still slumbering.

“You’d _waste_ this chance? How many times have you told me what you’d do to this woman, **huh**? What you’ve wanted to _say_ to her after all this time-what she _did_ to you?”

Reaper’s dry disinterest evaporated instantly. Shadows coalsecing in spite of the ridiculous lights, he seemed to grow taller and taller until he blotted out Jesse’s vision, looming as close as he dared. A steel-clawed hand closed around the cowboy’s throat; a sick thrill raced through him and Jesse squirmed, cock twitching in his pants.

Reyes didn’t seem to notice.

“Like you give a damn!” he hissed

“Like…You…Don’t” Jesse had croaked back with a grin.

The staredown ended with Jesse being dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Reyes crossed his arms and waited till Jesse had struggled back to his feet, still grinning even as he rubbed a hand over his throat.

“You’re right. I don’t care what happens to her, not anymore. You can do what you like.”

He moved over to Angela silently; Jesse glimpsed a clear syringe flash in his hands before he crouched over her, moving away after a moment. A faint groan echoed over the hum of the neon as Reyes ghosted past on a carpet of darkness.

“Nice one. Hey, you wanna watch?”

Reyes paused and Jesse knew he’d _fucked up_ when he saw the flirtatious cant of Reyes’ shoulders.

“Didn’t know you were into that, Jesse. A little **kinky** for three in the afternoon, don’t you think?”

“Hell, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t gonna _touch_ her, **_God-_** ”

Reyes soothed Jesse’s affront and disgust with a low laugh. The interest Jesse’s body had expressed earlier at the threat of asphyxiation returned for a beat at the sound.

“I know you weren’t. Just wanted to see how you’d react, _cowboy_.”

Jesse watched him sourly as he glided to the back of the room; he was only just discernible as a dark shape among the rafters, away from the bright lights below. Angela groaned again, and Reyes’ prescence slipped Jesse’s mind. He watched her, hawklike, as she was roused from her drug-induced slumber.

The Valkyrie suit was still a thing of beauty. All sleek and white and clean, save for a few smudges along her side from where he’d dumped her on the floor. Angela herself…Well, to say he hadn’t entertained idle thoughts about the stretchers in the medbay would’ve been a lie.

He let her get her bearings as best she could for a few seconds before he spoke out to her.

“Had a nice nap,darlin’?”

She blinked, cast around for a moment, fixed eventually on his silhouette among the neon lights. Her voice was hoarse and wary when she replied.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“What? You don’t recognise me, Angela? I’m hurt.” The cheerful tone had been replaced by a dark venom now, sarcasm colouring the syllables of her name. Glee and disgust roiled in his belly at the way her face creased, trying to place the sounds of his voice to a face, a name.

“Mind you, I shouldn’t be so surprised, I’ve changed my look a little since Overwatch.”

Her eyes snapped back to his own when he said slowly and clearly the name of thing which they had watched die. He wasn’t wrong; like the rest of Talon, he wore almost all black. Even his beloved red serape had been ditched in favour of a black one, made of some space age fabric that shimmered lightly under the neon. To add insult to injury, he reached up and drew down the scarf that covered his face. Horror and confusion on her own prompted a smirk on his.

“Did’ja miss me, Angie?”

“J-Jesse? Why are you-”

“With Talon? A whole bunch of reasons.” he took a moment to really look around, spurs clicking lowly on the tiles. He felt her eyes roving over him, calculating. He let her; wasn’t like she’d get past both him and Reyes. He stopped before one of the more imposing neon signs; a figure he knew well, tough no longer had any love for.

“Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs” he murmured under his breath, eyes flickering over the glowing image of Christ before him.

“ _Was?_ ”

Breaking his gaze away, he turned back to face her; pointed up at Christ’s benevolent and glowing face.

“Proverbs, Angie. 10:12. Don’t you know your Bible?”

At her glance away, he clicked his tongue in disappointment and sauntered back towards her, Held out a hand and helped her to her feet, ignoring the suspicious look she cast him, eyes back on those of Christ.

“’ts a shame. God don’t look kindly on folks who ignore Him.”

“Then He must surely be frowning on you, Jesse. To have sunk as low as this.”

A new grin broke out on his face, accompanied by a rough bark of laughter.

“”Sunk as low as this?” Honey, I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m having world’s more fun with these guys than I ever did with Jack and his lot. I’m crusin’ at the top of my game, Angie.”

She fixed him with a steely look which he returned over his grin. Her disapproval was noted but not acknowledged.

“Is that what this is about Jesse? Fun? What ever happened to righting all of your wrongs? To your promise to Ana-”

His gun was out of it’s holster in a flash, the click of the hammer drawn back masked by his roar of anger.

“ _Don’t you **ever** say her name!_ ”

The barn was silent, save for his faint, panting breaths and the hum of the lights surrounding them. As he calmed, her eyes flickered back up to his, carefully guarded as she looked past Peacekeeper’s muzzle. Not once had it wavered since being drawn.

“You just never when to stop, did you, Angela?” he began, shaking his head. She said nothing, only stood in silence, hands clasped demurely before her, just as she had stood to greet him when he first arrived at the Watchpoint in Nevada-

“You just couldn’t stop.” he repeated, softer. “It was always about you. Everything. All that shit with Genji and the supersoldier programme; you only gave a shit because it was free publicity. Kept cash rollin’ in to your beauty clinic in so you could go and make yourself pretty again.”

They both knew he told the truth. Her ivory skin was smooth and flawless; no grey laced her pale hair. Under the neon, she was wreathed in coloured light. The wings of the Valkyrie suit shimmered pale gold, translucent, emitting their own heavenly aura. His eyes were drawn to the halo crowning her head; the way the neon pooled and muddled on it’s gilt surface like an oil slick was transfixing.

“Genji was about saving a life-as for Jack, I was only doing what I was told-”

“Oh, come off that shit, Angela. Genji was about showin’ the world what you could do with a dead body; don’t pretend you were being compassionate, God.”

His face wrinkled in disgust. He remembered the way Genji had shied away from the mirrored walls of the meeting rooms; how he had overheard murmurings in the night about not deserving to live, about the wrongness of it-

Christ continued to smile down at them benevolently. In a snap, Jesse felt those eyes upon him, the eyes of God, and he knew what he was doing was right and good. Peacekeeper’s muzzle was pressed gently into Angela’s forehead; another pang of delight at how her eyes fluttered shut and her jaw worked against a gasp that rose in her throat.

“He was fucking dead, Angela. Stone fucking cold, and you saw a specimen lying there in the morgue, not a man or a soul. What the hell kind of doctor screws around with dead people huh? What, did you think you were some kind of _angel_ or something?” his accusations dissolved into disbelieving mirth, a sour suggestion that she occupied the heavenly role her appearance made a mockery of. Again, his eyes went to the halo.

A moment passed, thick and heavy. He pressed the gun harder into her forehead.

“The suit. Take it off.”

“Jesse-”

“Take. It. Off.”

He moved back only slightly to allow her to press at hidden buttons behind her neck; the chest plate opened and loosened with a hiss of pressurized air. The gulped and shakingly lowered the chest plate to the ground; the blackness of the undersuit she wore beneath drank of the light, showed her for the mess of shadows and secrets and lies he knew she truly was. With a titanic calm, he looked into her eyes and made an infinitesimal gesture with Peacekeeper’s muzzle.

“And the rest of it. You ain’t got no right callin’ yourself one of His own angels.”

She obeyed. Time became defined only by each clack and whisper of white Kevlar falling to the ground. The golden wings fell limp at his feet. The amber swags of cloth which hung between her legs, like altar cloths, were silent as they crumpled around her ankles.

Outside of the suit, she was smaller, robbed of all her regal airs and brisk elegance. Still, she stood with her ankles neatly together, chin raised in defiance. The only thing that remained was the halo. He regarded it with the same look of distrust and vague awe as he had bestowed upon the neon Jesus looming over them, ten feet tall.

“And the Son of Man will send out His angels, and they will weed out of His kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil.” he muttered reverently, warningly.

She did not shiver as he approached again, drifted the fingertips of one hand fleetingly over her lips, jaw, cheekbone to rest at the edge of the halo where it met the neck of her undersuit. He saw her repress a shudder of revulsion, close her eyes against him, felt another dark twitch of excitement race through him. After a moment, he decisively closed his hand around the halo; her eyes snapped open.

“You ain’t no angel.” he murmured, almost with pity, before using it like a handle to yank her around and flush against him. She writhed like a creature possessed, but he stilled her with the cool metal of the muzzle beneath her jaw. He pulled her head back and forced her to look up at Christ, to meet those glowing blue eyes.

“Now you look at Him and tell me again you’re a good woman, Angela. Stand in front of the Son of God and lie to Him like you lied to me; like you lied to Genji. Like you lied to Gabriel when you said the serum would do him no harm. You bare your soul before God and tell Him you’re sorry for everything you did.”

Her motions stilled; tears pricked her eyes as she felt the gun dig into the soft flesh of her neck. He felt too warm against her back without the protection of the Valkyrie’s armor, his breath hot and damp and smoky behind her ear. This man was the Devil-she was sure of it.

“ _Es tut mir leid … Für das, was ich tat. Vergib mir._ ”

He let her feel the weight of her own words, and the judgement of Christ’s gaze, before he flipped her around in his arms again. For a moment, she saw the old Jesse in his hazel eyes, her small self reflected in the hazel gleam of his irises.

“Good, good. I reckon God forgives you, Angie.”

A deep breath shuddered out of her as she fell forwards onto his shoulder, drained, empty, exposed. There was a faint tug on the strings of his heart and he swallowed, closing his eyes against the images that flashed on his eyelids, like the screen at a cinema. Memories of their first handshake, of wars fought in the name of the good fight, of her radiant smile, of her sweet hum made when she looked for things in the drawers of her desk. A life past, and all of a lie told to his face.

Jesse opened his eyes again and stared into those of Christ, at the neon pistols he held in each outstretched hand.

“I reckon God forgives you…But not me.”

Peacekeeper sang in the echoey expanse of the barn. The bullet left the muzzle, tore through neoprene, skin, muscle, bone, tore a hole straight through Angela’s heart and carried on going until it exited through the roof, leaving a pinprick of daylight behind.

Her last breath left her body in a gurgled huff as Jesse stepped to the side and allowed her to fall to the ground in a puff of dust. He returned Peacekeeper to it’s holster with a flourish, and seemed to have nothing to say or do now that he was no longer possessed by a holy need to  _purify_. Gabriel descended from the rafters silently, and they both looked down at the mirror pool of blood spreading at Jesse’s feet. In the half-dark, it seemed black, ichorous. Jesse sniffed.

“We better hustle before the cops show. Ain’t no way someone didn’t hear the shot.”

“I’ll jam the fuses. Shame to see the place burn; I like the lights.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Before they left, Jesse paused beside Angela’s body and followed briskly after Gabriel when he smelt smoke in the air. It was only when they were in the safety of the transport that he drew his black serape aside and showed Gabriel what he had been hiding. Gabriel’s only reply was a wry smile and shake of his head.

* * *

Later, when it was known that Lena had stopped singing and Overwatch was a ghost long gone, Jesse walked into the transport common room, spreading his arm wide to show it to two new recruits. Albino twins, brother and sister, demons if ever he saw them.

“What’s that?” the girl says, pointing at something that shines golden-bright on a hunter’s mount over the table. Jesse grins and dips his chin towards it.

“Didn’t the others tell you? We even killed an **angel** once.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: recently I've started roleplaying Jesse McCree on Tumblr, and I received some asks from other Overwatch roleplayers requesting drabbles as to how Jesse might kill their character. A very kind Mercy rper asked me for one such drabble, and this was the result.


End file.
